His Parents' Son
by Realmer06
Summary: Teddy Lupin's first two weeks at Hogwarts are not going well. When everyone knows who your parents are and who your godfather is, it's a lot for any eleven year old to live up to. DH Spoilers, naturally.


For Heidi, for her birthday.

DISCLAIMER: They aren't mine, I swear. Just giving Teddy Lupin some love!

* * *

His Parents' Son 

"Life sucks," the eleven-year-old muttered as he strode through the Entrance Hall, not caring that he was out of bounds and that anyone could see him. He got a kind of sullen pleasure out of imagining what his grandmother would say if she could hear him using that word. She'd probably send another Howler. "Life really sucks," he said again, scowling at the large marble memorial that stood in a place of honor in the middle of the entryway. Sulkily, he kicked its base, hissing at the dull pain it sent up his leg. Well, that was just one more reason why his life sucked.

Still scowling, he slipped out the doors and started walking toward the lake, half wanting a teacher to see him. As he walked, he listed in his head all the reasons _why_ life sucked.

It sucked that his parents were dead, first of all, that he was an orphan and had been his whole life. It sucked that he had to live with his grandmother because his parents had gone and gotten themselves killed in the Last Great War. And it sucked that their names were engraved on that stupid memorial for all the world to see. If it sucked that his parents were war heroes and that everyone knew it, it sucked even more that on top of it, famous Harry Potter was his godfather. That _really_ sucked. And it sucked that everyone expected great things of him because of who he was related to and even who he wasn't. It sucked that he'd had three detentions in his first two weeks of school and that after the third one, his Head of House – "Another stupid war hero," he muttered, thinking about it – had sent his grandmother a message informing her of his detentions. But what sucked worst of all was that his mother had been a Metamorphmagus and had given it to him and that normally he was really good about controlling his appearance but when something _really_ embarrassing happened, like getting a Howler from his grandmother in front of the entire school, he couldn't always keep his hair from turning colors like –

"Pink," he growled. Bright pink, in front of the entire school, which was worse than the Howler itself. Everyone had laughed at him, and he'd run and spent the rest of the day in the Hospital Wing behind a curtain, waiting for his hair to go back to its usual brown. It had taken _six hours_, and he'd missed all his classes, and at the rate he was going, he'd never finish Hogwarts – he'd spend the rest of his life in detention!

"Not that it matters," he muttered darkly, shoving his hands in the pockets of his robes as he trudged around the lake. "It's not like I have any friends to spend time with anyway. 'Cause I'm a _freak_."

Just then, with a crackle of thunder, it began to rain. "Oh, just _great_!" he howled, stamping his feet as he looked frantically around for a place to shelter from the rain. "Now I'm gonna be _wet_, and I'll probably get _sick_ and _die_, and nobody'll even _care_!"

"Who's there?" came a voice. Looking around, he realized he'd wandered too close to the greenhouses. "Teddy Lupin, is that you?"

There was no use denying it. The Herbology Professor – who was also his Head of House – was impossible to lie to. "Yes, Professor Longbottom," Teddy mumbled, trying to shrink from the rain, wishing he'd brought his cloak. He stood waiting for the scolding, and the disappointment he was sure would radiate as he got his fourth detention since school had started.

But it never came. "Come in out of the rain, Teddy," Professor Longbottom said, holding open the door to his greenhouse office, with nothing more in his voice than concern. Glumly, Teddy shuffled inside. "Turn and face me," Professor Longbottom said, and now Teddy braced himself for reprimand, but again it didn't come. Instead, he felt warm air encasing him. He lifted his head to see his Professor drying him off with air from his wand. "Tea?" he asked, once Teddy was dry.

Teddy was horrified to feel tears prick his eyes as everything about his horrible day – two weeks, really – caught up with him. Gulping, he merely nodded, then sat by the professor's desk.

After a moment, Professor Longbottom joined him, holding two steaming cups of tea, one of which he pushed across the desk to Teddy. They sipped in silence for a few moments, until Teddy just couldn't take it anymore.

"Are you going to put me in detention?" he blurted out. Professor Longbottom raised his eyebrows.

"Well, I don't know," he said. "Do you think I should?"

Embarrassed about being asked his opinion, Teddy blushed. "I was out of bounds," he mumbled.

"Yes," Professor Longbottom agreed. "But what I want to know, Teddy, is why." Teddy made the mistake of looking at his Head of House. Professor Longbottom was sitting back in his chair, long fingers folded together, his eyes showing only concern.

"There's no people out here," Teddy mumbled, quickly looking away. "No one laughing at me."

Neville Longbottom nodded, though the young boy didn't see. He knew, of course, what had happened to the boy this morning, just as he knew that Teddy, though he hid it well, was not having an easy time at Hogwarts. His heart went out to the boy. He knew what it was like to be raised by a grandmother always measuring you against your parents.

"Surely your friends aren't laughing at you?" he asked the boy kindly.

"Haven't got any," Teddy said to his shoes. Neville nodded again; he'd had a feeling that was true. He knew now he'd made a mistake in alerting Andromeda of Teddy's behavioral problems. He should have contacted Harry, but Harry was only the boy's godfather. Andromeda was his legal guardian.

"Teddy," Neville said as kindly as possible, "Teddy, is there anything you'd like to talk about? Anyone you want me to–?"

"No, I'm fine," was the boy's immediate, hollow response.

"I can send a letter to your godfather –"

"I don't want to bother him with this." Neville frowned.

"Harry would want to know, Teddy."

"Then he should –" the boy started angrily, but caught himself. "Thanks for the tea. When do you want me for my detention?" he asked, still looking at his shoes.

"I'm not giving you a detention," Neville said simply, making up his mind there and then. The boy's head snapped up. "I'm not giving you a detention, Teddy, but I would like you to come here Saturday after lunch." The boy wilted.

"So it _is_ a detention; you're just calling it something else," he muttered. "Are you gonna write Gram about this one, too?" Neville shook his head.

"It's not a detention, Teddy. I would like you to come."

"What if I don't?" he asked defiantly, silently daring his professor to say he'd punish him.

"I'll be disappointed in your absence," was Neville's calm reply. As Teddy glowered at him sullenly, he said, "Now let's get you back up to the castle," and stood, ushering the boy out of the door.

* * *

It was shortly after noon that Teddy trudged down to Professor Longbottom's greenhouse office that Saturday. He was early, he knew, but what else could the professor be doing? 

So he was surprised, as he approached, to hear voices filtering out through an open window. One was, of course, Professor Longbottom. But the other – he stopped dead in his tracks when he realized who the other speaker was.

" . . . no friends at all, Neville?" the male voice said. It was his godfather, Harry. And they were talking about him.

"No. If I hadn't been watching him, I'd have thought it just a young boy's exaggeration, but it isn't. He's always on his own and he confides in no one that I can tell. A lot of the other teachers seem inclined to write it off as rebelliousness, but I know there's more to it than that, Harry. But he won't talk to me. I was hoping he might open up more to you." The Professor sighed. "I should have contacted you earlier this week, but I thought Andromeda . . ."

Teddy could feel himself growing angry. How dare Professor Longbottom! This wasn't fair! He'd said he didn't want his godfather here!

"She really sent a Howler? Over three detentions in two weeks? The boy's _never_ been a real troublemaker, Neville! She _raised _him; she knows that! What was she thinking?"

"The Howler said something about how she wouldn't put up with his father breaking out now that he was at school." There was the sound of something slamming hard into something else; Harry had just slammed his fist down onto Professor Longbottom's desktop in anger.

"That woman!" he all but shouted. "She has _never_ gotten over the fact that her daughter married a werewolf! She holds it against Teddy and she holds it against me! I had not one word from her about this, not one word! And none from him either, though I had a letter not two days ago, Neville!"

"He seems to think you should already know what's going on," the professor said in his calm, quiet way. "As if, by virtue of being his godfather, you should know without having to be told."

It was more than Teddy could handle. That they were calmly sitting there, discussing him. That all this had been arranged behind his back. That Professor Longbottom had just voiced the one thing he was most ashamed of, the one thing he thought nobody knew. It was more than he could take, all of it. He wrenched open the door of the office, alerting the two men to his presence as he shouted, "You _tricked_ me!"

Both men turned, startled, to see the object of their discussion standing in the doorway, hair the bright red of anger, angry tear streaks lining his cheeks.

"Teddy," Professor Longbottom started in that forced calm voice grown-ups adopted when they wanted to sooth an angry child. Well, Teddy Lupin wasn't about to let himself be soothed.

"I _told_ you not to bother him!" he shouted. "I _told_ you not to contact him! I don't need him and I don't need you! Is that what this was supposed to be about?"

"I thought you might both benefit by a visit," Professor Longbottom said, still calm.

"Yeah, I _heard_ what you thought!" Teddy yelled at him. The professor crossed his arms.

"The choice to come was yours, Teddy," he said.

"That's not true! You _made_ me!" he shouted. "You didn't _order_ me, but you still made me come!"

The professor inclined his head slightly. "It has been my experience that punishment doesn't drive a message home half so well as disappointment, and for you, Teddy, punishments have not been working." Teddy scowled and looked away. "Now then," Professor Longbottom said, his voice growing stern as it very rarely was. "I want you to talk to your godfather. Really talk, mind. I want you to figure out what's wrong and fix it." He paused in that way he had, the way he made students know he had more to say, but wasn't going to say it until he had eye contact. Teddy had sworn that if the professor ever tried that with him, he wouldn't give in; he would just keep looking down forever. Yet now that the moment had come, he couldn't. His eyes flickered up after a few moments' silence, much to his dismay. "That's the only way you can fulfill your potential, Teddy, and become the kind of student I _know_ you are."

Teddy sulked. This wasn't fair! He didn't _want_ to talk to anybody, least of all these two! They couldn't possibly understand what it was like, and he was going to make sure they knew it!

"You don't get it!" he raged. "Neither of you do! You're both big war heroes, you don't know what it's like to be a freak like me!"

His godfather's eyebrows shot up at that. Teddy watched, glowering, as Harry folded his arms and said, "Who's calling you a freak, Teddy?"

"_I_ am!" Teddy shouted. "_I'm_ calling me a freak! You're a hero and everybody loves you, both of you! You don't know what it's like to have people _whisper_ at you when you walk past, stop and stare at you in the halls and laugh! You don't know what it's like to have everybody in the whole world know who you are just because of who your parents were, who your godfather is!" The last was directed at Harry. "And you don't know what it's like to have to live up to everything that they did, to have huge things expected of you because of things that happened when you were so little that you can't even remember!"

His tirade done, he sat, shaking with anger and hurt, hot tears streaking his cheeks. He refused to look at either of the men in the room with him, and so he missed the very significant look that both men shared. He didn't see Harry tilt his head slightly at Teddy and he didn't see Neville's small nod. He only knew that Professor Longbottom had gotten out of his chair when he felt the man's hand on his shoulder and heard his name.

"Teddy," his teacher said softly, "I think you will come to find, in time, that those known as heroes very rarely assign the title to themselves. Indeed, they often don't look upon their acts as being heroic at all, but rather, simply what had to be done at the time. I think you'll find that, under the hero, lie some truly ordinary people. Harry, my office is yours for as long as you need it."

"Thank you, Neville," Harry said, and then Professor Longbottom left.

Teddy really didn't want to be left alone with his godfather, especially not after that outburst. He should have held his tongue. He shouldn't have lost his temper. If he'd just kept his mouth shut, he could have convinced his godfather that he was fine. Now, he knew, he never would.

There was silence for a long moment after the door had clicked shut, and then Harry began to speak. "I knew a boy once who could talk to snakes," Harry said in that very quiet and calm voice that Teddy hated beyond all others. "Parseltongue is, as you know, a very rare and suspicious gift, and so when it was discovered that this boy had the gift, he was essentially shunned by his peers, facing whispers and suspicions from all but a very few close friends. Everyone else thought he was a freak."

"I know the story," Teddy said harshly, cutting his godfather off. "I know all the stories about you; they're not exactly secret, and people tell me about you even more often than they tell me about Mum and Dad." Harry raised his eyebrows.

"I thought you liked hearing about your parents," he said, faking surprise. "You were always asking me to tell you about them when you were younger."

"The stories people tell here aren't like yours," was Teddy's mumbled response.

"How so?" Harry asked. His godfather's voice was quiet and low. Teddy didn't want to answer, but, again, he felt the answer pulled from him.

"They're not as real." It came out as a barely audible whisper, but he knew Harry had heard it.

"How so?" he asked again, and Teddy's anger and irritation came back.

"I don't _know_, okay?" he cried. "They just _aren't_! What do you want from me?"

"I want you to tell me what's bothering you," Harry said honestly.

"_Nothing_!" Teddy insisted, but his godfather wasn't fooled.

"We both know that isn't true, Teddy," he said. "What is it?" When Teddy didn't answer, Harry reached across the desk and laid one hand on the boy's shoulder. "Talk to me, Teddy," he said. Teddy wrenched away.

"I shouldn't have to!" he said, angry. "I shouldn't have to _tell_ you! You should _know_! You're_ supposed_ to know!" He turned away from Harry then, hunched over in his chair. Harry frowned in concern.

"I think I do," he said very softly. Though his godson gave no visible sign of hearing, Harry knew he was listening. "I think you're very angry with . . . everyone, really. With your grandmother and your teachers and the students here and with me. But more than all that, you're angry with your parents."

Teddy's head snapped up. He shook his head in disbelief and horror at the suggestion, but Harry could also see the wild look in his eyes that betrayed the truth – half of his horror was because he thought he'd buried the guilty feelings deep enough that no one could see them.

"It's okay," Harry said softly.

"No it isn't!" Teddy said, those stubborn and embarrassing tears coming back. "It isn't okay! I shouldn't – I can't help it, I –" He looked away. "I'm no kind of Gryffindor," he whispered, one lone tear dripping down off the end of his nose.

And suddenly his godfather was in his line of view, kneeling on the ground in front of him, his face level with Teddy's own.

"When I was a boy," he said softly, "Before I knew about what I was or about what my parents were, I lived with my aunt and uncle who never let me forget for a moment that I was unwanted. I would lie in that cupboard where they had locked me without food for several days, and there were times when I would get so . . . _angry_ with my mum and dad. For dying and leaving me alone when I needed them. When I found out that they were heroes . . . some of it changed, but not all of it. There were still those traitorous moments when I knew they hadn't really been as courageous and selfless and heroic as everyone said, because they had died. And if they had been all those things, they would have lived for their son. They would have found a way to survive."

Teddy's tears were falling fast and thick now, and he refused to look at his godfather until Harry physically turned the boy's head so he would. Vision blurry and chin quivering, he looked at his godfather. Harry smiled sadly at the boy, kindness and understanding clear in his gaze.

"Believe me, Teddy," he whispered. "I know what it's like. I know what it's like to have people whisper at you as you walk past them. I know what it's like to have to live up to something that happened when you were an infant, to never be able to escape your parents' legacies. And I know what it's like to be _furious_ at times with your parents for dying and leaving you alone in the times when you need them the most. I know the guilt that goes along with feeling that. I understand, maybe better than anyone else, what you're going through. I know how hard it is. Believe me, I know." After a moment's pause, he said one last thing, one thing that was the hardest for him to say. "And I know what it's like to have a godfather who isn't always what you need him to be."

Teddy shook his head violently. "I didn't mean it like that," he whispered, shame-faced. Harry nodded slightly in concession.

"Maybe not, but I know all the same. I'm sorry I didn't see you were having a hard time, and I'm sorry I wasn't here when you needed me. I will be from now on. I promise."

And Teddy, ignoring the fact that he was very nearly twelve and very nearly twelve-year-olds didn't do such things, buried his face in his godfather's chest and sobbed. Harry held his godson close and rocked him gently back and forth. He listened carefully to Teddy's half-incoherent sobs about how he had no friends and how he was afraid he'd fail all his classes and spend the rest of his life in detention because he was so guilty about being mad at everyone.

When his sobs had been reduced to hiccups and sniffles, Harry pulled away and handed the boy his handkerchief. "Don't let it get this bad again, okay?" he said softly. Teddy nodded without speaking. "If you're upset about something, write to me and we'll work it out, I promise." Teddy nodded again.

"Will you tell me about them?" he asked in a very soft voice. "The real stories?" Harry smiled.

"Your dad and my dad were best friends at school," he started. "He, my dad, Sirius Black, and Peter Pettigrew called themselves The Marauders . . ."

* * *

"Daddy, Daddy, Daddy!" Harry's four-year-old son yelled as he toddled into Harry's office and began tugging on the hem of his robe. In one sticky fist he clutched a roll of parchment, which he offered to his father. 

"Thank you, James," Harry said, taking the offering and kissing his son on the head before shooing him back out to the kitchen to finish his breakfast. Unrolling the parchment, Harry smiled when he saw the letter was from Teddy.

_Dear Harry, _he wrote.

_I made a friend! Her name is Emily Morrigan and she's a first year Gryffindor like me! She came up to me the other day and asked if I was the boy with pink hair. At first I thought she was making fun of me, but then she said she'd really liked it and wanted to know if I could show her how to do it. Of course I couldn't, but I told her all about being a Metamorphmagus and she said it was really cool!_

_She's my partner in Defense Against the Dark Arts now, which is my favorite subject, I think. Oh, and Emily and I have to do a detention this Saturday, because the professors figured out it was us who turned everybody's hair pink for an entire day! But Professor Longbottom told me in private that it was a really impressive charm, but that I shouldn't think that'll mean I can get away with doing stuff like that._

_Emily and I are already planning our next big prank. _

_How do you think I'd look with blue hair? _

_Teddy_

Harry laughed and shook his head as he folded up the parchment. Teddy Lupin was his parents' son.

* * *

Why don't you give Teddy Lupin some love, too? 


End file.
